


give me something (to hold onto)

by sapphicsrlit



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24536461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicsrlit/pseuds/sapphicsrlit
Summary: Harvey turns up at Donna's doorstep seeking comfort after his father died. Set pre-pilot.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Kudos: 5





	give me something (to hold onto)

_give me something (to hold onto)_

.

_what's the truth, give me something_

_take me down a road i believe in_

_lost the way, lost all reason_

.

Harvey knocks on her door, tie loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt undone, before he slumps against the doorframe as he waits for her to open up. It's late, probably, but he lost track of time four whiskies ago.

Donna opens the door, wrapped in a loose, grey cardigan and takes him in with tired eyes and a sympathetic hum. "Harvey."

His eyes shoot up from where they were trained on the floor and she inhales sharply when they make eye contact. He knows how he must look — probably the same as he feels. Hazy, intoxicated and fucking devastated.

"Jesus Christ, Harvey! I expected you to have a drink, not get completely wasted." She shakes her head like she is disappointed in herself for thinking better of him. "How many have you had?"

"Dunno." He shrugs. Enough to take the edge off and then some, he thinks.

Donna had insisted he go home early and even offered to go with him so he wouldn't have to deal with the impact of the heartbreaking news on his own. He had refused, too stubborn to let anyone in, too afraid to let Donna see how devastated he was and how broken he felt. But as it turned out, that meant ample time for him to lose himself in childhood memories and a full bottle of whisky.

He vaguely registers Donna tugging on his arm to lead him into her apartment, which is cosy and warm and instantly surrounds him like a veil. Being alone in his apartment had been unbearable, the empty walls and the lack of personal touch reminding him that he didn't have anyone in his life. Except, of course, Donna.

Standing in her living room, he realises that he hasn't been here since the other time and he swallows – he'd been sober then and he'd still almost thrown everything away from her, might have, if the job offer from Jessica hadn't worked out. He feels like he needs to offer some sort of explanation as to what happened in those few hours he spent pacing through his apartment, wracked with guilt and loneliness and wrapped up in the overwhelming thought he'd fucked it all up, but one look at Donna tells him she can guess by his appearance.

"I'm so sorry, Harvey."

"It's fine," he insists weakly, "I just— The thought of being _alone_ …" He trails off and swallows, because he gets too honest when he's drunk so he shuts up.

"You're not alone. I told you, I'm here for you. So come on, let me take your jacket and get you a glass of water," she offers with a gentle smile, and he feels like everything fighting inside of him is going to get the better of him any second now.

His chest is heaving, fingers twitching against his legs, and he's nervous; he can feel it shaking his hands, and he swallows again, pushing back everything in him fighting for attention. Donna notices, Donna always notices, and says, "what is it?"

"I never called him back." The guilt wins and the words break out of him in a choked sob, and she looks at him, stunned. She's never seen him unravel so much that he loses control over his voice.

Donna's eyes narrow, the way she does when he's being honest, and he swears he can hear her heart crack and she steps towards him and murmurs, "I know."

His shoulders are slumped and he looks lost and fragile, so unlike the cocky lawyer she knows. There's a moment where she doesn't know what to do with him, scared to touch and comfort him since it's not something they usually do. A dry sob wrecks his body and she can't bear to see the strongest man she knows struggle on his own. She takes another step forward and her arms wrap around his frame almost instinctively. Wanting to provide comfort and take away the unbearable pain over losing a parent, she thinks a hug is the only thing that he needs.

Hell, that she needs. She feels the loss of Gordon Specter too. He'd almost been like a father to her and her pain is heightened by seeing how much Harvey is struggling to accept the fact that the only real parental figure in his life is now gone.

Harvey sinks into the embrace without any resistance. His arms sneak around her small waist to pull her flush against him as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, shaking with the effort not to lose it completely. Holding onto her for dear life, he lets her scent engulf him, and he breathes her in slowly and deliberately, causing his heart rate to slow down and sync with hers. It's comforting; her arms looping around his waist to stroke his back gently, her hair tickling his face and her warm breath in his ear.

There's not an inch between them, no room for any thought, and he can't think past sensation, her body against his, how much she comforts him and how much he wants to forget and be here in the moment with her.

It's something he didn't know he needed until Donna gave it to him. He'd spent the entire afternoon pacing around his living room, trying to distract himself until eventually he'd started to drink. Feeling Donna's body melt into his, feeling her warmth and calmness, is more soothing than any words she could utter, more addicting than any drink and it's the only thought that registers in his brain, so he doesn't let go. Right now, all he feels is love and support and it's almost staggering, the effect Donna is having on him.

A small part of him hates himself for accepting her comfort when he doesn't deserve it. He should be feeling guilty instead because he fucked up and he deserves to be punished. But the self-loathing is unbearable, the pain overwhelming and even the amount of alcohol he consumed before coming here could do nothing to distract his mind.

He turns his head finally and feels hot tears escape from the corner of his eyes. "I was too busy to call him back and now – now he's gone."

"He understood," she reassures him, squeezing his shoulder.

"It's not an excuse. I always put work first..." He doesn't say 'and for what?' but Donna knows him, and probably hears it in the silence anyway.

"It's not, but Harvey, you are going to make partner, and that has to count for something."

He sighs and shudders as he tries to pull himself together. "Dad would have loved it."

"He would," she agrees. "You know he is so proud of you, right?" She pauses for a moment, then corrects herself. " _Was,"_ and pulls back a little to look at his face worriedly. He's tired, he can feel it in his face and she's looking at him like all his hurt is sitting in her bones. His eyes are full of more unshed tears and she brushes the streaks of tears away from his cheeks. His five o'clock shadow scratches against her thumb softly and he thinks how easy it would be for him to turn his head and kiss her hand again — the way he did lifetimes ago when she was straddling his waist and teasing him about there being whipped cream all over his face.

The gentle touch is something much more than the hug they just shared, and her fingers continue to caress his cheek. His eyes drop down to her lips, and they are _right there_. If he leaned down, he could just about kiss her.

His sudden desire for her is unexpected; hot and rich and present; he feels his grief blink out as he continues to stare at her lips. Then Donna looks up at him and when their eyes meet he is surprised to find her eyes dark and full of want.

She makes his toes curl and his heart protest, but only a little, and it's easy to ignore because he feels a longing, a yearning, he had never acknowledged before. It's all-consuming and drowns out the voice in his head screaming at him not to be an idiot.

He feels her nose slowly stroke his cheek and her breath is hot against his skin. Before he can register what's going on, Donna's lips brush over his in the gentlest of touches, almost like she's unaware of what she's doing.

A moment later, she pulls back and a low 'sorry' escapes her throat. "I didn't mean to—"

But he is paralysed, all he knows is that he wants more and he runs his fingers gently through Donna's bangs and into her hair. Leaning down, he pulls her back in, finding her comforting lips again before he can give his actions another thought. The touch is electric, shooting through the haze in his brain and going straight for a release of dopamine. He pulls back, it's too much, and Donna gasps so she must have felt it too, but she slides her hand behind his neck and tugs, pulling him back for more. His hands tighten in her hair and he feels her sigh and grab his shirt to pull him closer. Their lips collide again, sliding against one another in reckless abandon.

Her lips are soft and exactly as he remembers. Her hands rake over his jacket, and he groans, the sound spurring her on. In the back of his mind there's a warning bell going off, but he runs his hands over her shoulder to push her cardigan away and his mouth drops down to suck on her jawline and her neck and the thought fades with every flick of his tongue against her exposed skin.

The way he leans in and kisses her makes any rules she has disappear. He's always been like that, always been able to make reason and resolve crumble, and so when he draws back, she's already gone, and she pulls him back to her.

There's a very distinct desperation to the kiss, the way he pulls her closer, devours her and pushes her arms up to take her shirt over her head. It's rash and hurried and full of need for her, making her mind shut down and instinct kick in.

She throws her top carelessly on the dining table behind her and as soon as her bare skin is revealed, his eyes zero in on her chest. His stare is intense and she can feel a slight blush creeping up. Without taking his eyes off her chest, he shrugs off his jacket and Donna hastily starts unbuttoning his shirt, ripping a few buttons as Harvey reaches forward to palm her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra, kneading them until her nipples harden, eliciting a throaty moan from her.

When Donna starts unbuckling his belt, her fingers brush against the fine hairs on his belly, making Harvey twitch against her. The action causes his cock to brush the indent of her inner thigh and the feeling is electric, making her brain short-circuit and the passion between them unleash. He doesn't let her finish and pins her against the nearest wall instead. His hands are everywhere, sparking a desire deep in her belly as she wraps a leg around his calf.

Donna is stroking his back, holding onto him when the distinct smell of whisky jolts her back into reality. He feels _so good_ against her but it's not right. Making out is not what he needs right now when he is drunk and grieving. It's a convenient distraction from reality but the bubble is going to burst and he'll hate himself the next day, she knows. And he'll do what he always does when he's done something to her that he hates and hurl it back at her. The realisation sends a rush of guilt through her body for letting things get out of control and she tries to get his attention by whispering his name.

Harvey hums, sucks on the crease of her collarbone and murmurs her name back to her, his teeth grazing her skin and he thinks she's as gone as he is, so she stops him by nudging him backwards forcefully. His hands drop down at the sudden loss of contact and his brow furrows like he doesn't understand what's happening. Every single cell in her body is still tingling when he reaches out to her but she shakes her head.

"We can't do this," she says, the guilt sitting heavy in her chest.

This is a mistake and she feels sick for kissing him back when he's this vulnerable. She should know better than that. There's something between them, a sort of invisible line and they've always liked to toy with it but this is too far. Her heart is beating faster than normal in her chest and she isn't sure if it's because kissing him is wrong or because it feels amazing.

Hurt flashes across his face and he accuses her, "You told me you'd be there for me."

"This is not what I meant." She'd just been trying to help, but he'd been so damn close and she's never been able to think straight when he's that close and _so much for being a good friend._

Donna picks up her discarded cardigan and pulls it around herself tightly. When she looks up at him again, he is visibly upset and his hurt turns into anger as her rejection sinks in.

"Well, this is what _I_ need!"

"This isn't what you really want, Harvey."

"Isn't it?" He throws back.

"Harvey, you're drunk," she reminds him. "You're going to regret–"

He interrupts her, "so what?"

"Harvey." His name is harsh on her lips.

He stares at her for a moment, and then his shoulders slump. He knows just as well as she does how close to the line he's gotten. "I'm sorry," he says.

She waits a moment. "I am not some faceless girl you can pick up at a bar and fuck whenever you're struggling." She can hear the crack in her own voice as she says it. _Asshole_.

"I know." He shakes his head and she can't tell if he's kicking himself or trying to clear the fog of alcohol. "I know. I'm sorry, Donna."

"I know," she replies, and it's more gentle this time. "And if I thought this… us…" she trails off. She doesn't say 'I would throw out my rule for you.' But she thinks it. "But it isn't and deep down you know it. It's just a distraction."

Harvey shakes his head, but she knows she's right. Being alone in his apartment must have been overwhelming, so he'd gotten drunk and then sought out her comfort when the alcohol hadn't helped to drown out his guilt. But of course Harvey doesn't want to hear that so he pushes back. "And what about you?"

She swallows hard and raises an eyebrow. Instead of replying, she crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively, daring him.

"Why did _you_ kiss me back?" he asks.

"I'm human, Harvey, what do you think?"

"You're supposed to be better than this!" He shouts exasperatedly. "You're supposed to play by the goddamn rules."

His hands tremble helplessly at his sides and his chin quivers slightly and she suddenly gets it.

Of course his father's death would inevitably bump against old bruises of his, reminding him that he needn't be parentless now if his mother had been faithful to his father, if she hadn't asked him to keep her infidelity a secret until he couldn't take it anymore and blew everything up.

He is hurting, and she knows she shouldn't have let the situation get out of hand. But his words hit a bit too close to home, and she doesn't have it in her to just let it go. "Why are you so angry at me?"

"Because you're supposed to be different!"

"Different than who?" She challenges.

He takes a step back, and she sees it in his eyes, sees him think _everyone_.

He says, "Donna," and it hurts.

She wants to close the distance, take this broken man into her arms again and show him that he can trust her but she knows he won't let her comfort him now. He was relying on her to be his moral compass and she let him down.

Sighing, she picks up his shirt and hands it to him.

"Harvey, have you even called your brother and made arrangements?" Knowing him, he probably hasn't. He is bursting at the seams and yet he isn't dealing with his grief at all.

"No," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Before she can say anything, he is putting his shirt back on and picking up his jacket, clearly wanting to leave, but he stumbles and barely catches himself on the back of her couch.

"Jesus, let me–" Donna moves to help him but he dismisses her with a slight shake of his head. He could have gone anywhere, sought comfort in the arms of any woman, but he came to her. It means something, more than it should maybe, and she hates how things have progressed since he arrived.

"Stay, Harvey," she pleads, and he nods tiredly, all fight in him gone. Wanting to give him a moment of space, she goes to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and shake off the worst of however many whiskies he's had.

"I'm not going to the funeral," Harvey says when she returns. He's sitting on the couch now, head in his hands, somehow looking worse than before.

Wordlessly, she hands him the glass and he takes a large sip from it as she sinks down into the cushions next to him.

"Harvey, you need to grieve your father." She can't help it, the worry seeping through in her voice, but she cares about his well-being just as much as her own.

"I will grieve my father in my own way," he insists.

"Like you did tonight?"

"That won't happen again," he says resolutely.

"Yeah. Because I'm going to make sure you're going to that funeral."

He might not know it, but it's what he needs. His relationship with his family has been a sore issue for him for a long time, and he rarely ever talks about it, but he opened up once when they were still working at the DA's office. Maybe it's not her business but he came to her looking for comfort, for her guidance and she fucked up earlier but she won't make the same mistake again.

"No, I'm fine." His resolve is weak, his walls crumbling once again and she gestures at his appearance. He's reeking of alcohol, his eyes are sunken in and his hands are shaking ever so slightly — he doesn't look _fine._

He finally looks up. "She's gonna be there, Donna." The hurt in his eyes is staggering, it's deeper than she thought and despite their earlier discussion, he lets her see it openly.

Donna softens. "I know she is." She reaches out to him instinctively to place her hand on his shoulder and he allows it. "But this is your last chance to say goodbye to your father. I know you feel guilty about not calling him back. Go to the funeral and do it for _him_. Not for your mother, not for anyone. You need to grieve him properly in order to move on."

Her thumb caresses his shoulder softly and Harvey's jaw clenches, his eyes flicker around the room aimlessly until they settle on her face again.

Donna gives him an encouraging smile and she sees the truth register in Harvey's eyes. If he doesn't go now, he will carry the guilt with him forever. Saying goodbye to his father is the last thing he wants to do and yet it's the only thing that he needs to do. She knows Harvey better than he knows himself, and she sees his eyes glaze over at the realisation.

"I can't think about this right now." His voice cracks, probably from the onslaught of emotions that are fighting for control of his body, and she thinks he's allowed to sleep on it. His wounds are still fresh and there's a possibility he might not even remember any of what happened tonight.

"Why don't you crash on my couch, get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning?" she offers, not wanting him to leave in his drunken state.

"Yeah. Probably for the best."

They sit on the couch for a moment longer, and he leans into her touch, seeking her comfort again and she is glad for it.

.

Harvey sneaks out of her apartment at the crack of dawn with a pounding headache and guilt that still cuts deep. It's the second time he's doing this, leaving while she's still asleep, and he knows it's the coward's way out but he can't handle seeing her in the morning.

The shame of his actions is suffocating. She's Donna and she's far, far too good for him. Any other woman would have slept with him and not cared about the reasons as to why he was hurt and wanted to forget so badly. But Donna stopped him. Donna knew.

It makes him see her in a new light, respect her even more. Ultimately, she is faithful to her rule. Maybe she is an exception because people don't keep their promises. And he always fucks up the relationships that mean the most to him, and people leave, one way or another. But with Donna, it's different and he needs her to stick around.

So he promises himself to never let it come to that. She's his guidepost, his moral compass and he cannot lose her, ever, over something as fleeting as a distraction from his own demons because she is right, he needs to say goodbye to his father in order to move on and forgive himself.

.

_give me something_

_to hold onto_

_i've got nothing_

_since i lost you_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are always welcome. xx


End file.
